Amaranthine
by wistfulstars
Summary: 「 コードギアス 」He believed that in a place that might as well be hell, there was no such thing that bloomed; for flowers can never grow in darkness, and most especially, they cannot grow in a place called dystopia. And yet, in spite of all odds, the two of them became the most unlikely of friends.
1. Good Deeds

**Amaranthine**  


コードギアス Harry Potter

「 _If **forever** was a promise, __would you break it if you're honest? _」

* * *

I do not own _Code Geass_ and _Harry Potter,_ or their respective characters. All rights belong to Sunrise animation studio and J.K. Rowling, creators of the series.

* * *

【開始】

_In the year 1473, a man by the name of Wilhelm von Britannia became the first to unite all three of the fabled Deathly Hallows since their inception. In the aftermath of this newfound supremacy above all others, he waged war against the entire world in the name of justice. He could no longer bear to remain a mere bystander of the fruitless witch hunts that yielded far more casualties than results; in a world fraught with fear of witchcraft and wizardry, the intention to rid society of deleterious magic came at the cost of innumerable lives of innocents. His kind had been condemned, pushed to the brink of disappearance by those who pledged to massacre an entire race in fear of their own inferiority, and so he took it upon himself to purge the world of greater evil. It mattered not if he sullied the noble name of Britannia, or if in days to come the name would inspire no more than terror and ignominy. If the ignorance of humanity could not be alleviated, and if man and wizard were destined to live not in harmonious tranquility but rather inimical war, then the streets would run read with blood. _

_In what would later be known as the Forgotten Insurrection, Wilhelm and his allies fought to restore glory to the wizarding world. The non-magic peoples resisted with matched fervor, and in the end the wizards found themselves reduced to a meager existence despite great losses sustained by both sides. Because of this tragic defeat, the wizards were stripped of their ability to roam freely in the world; instead, they resorted to living in quietude amidst the shadows, cowering behind the hastily erected Ministry that now ruled supreme. Driven by rage at this loss, Wilhelm dedicated the remainder of his life to preserving the quickly-dwindling population of wizards of pure blood. Along with his followers, a faction of blood purists, he pillaged village upon village in the human world and persecuted all wizards who had mated with people. Their mission was a beacon of light for the oppressed who had lived under the imminent threat of the witch hunts for so long, but for those that stood in their way, annihilation was just as cruel and merciless as it had been when imposed upon them by non-magic folk._

_With the passing of time, the infamous name would eventually be written off in the chronicles of human history as merely a failed revolution against a suppressive monarchy. However, for generations to come of the wizarding population, Wilhelm von Britannia was at once the most powerful and dangerous wizard that had lived up to date. Those with a blood status regarded as tainted feared him, and all who lived by his values. Others with pure blood running through their veins upheld his ideals with their lives. _

_More than five hundred years later, a halfblood wizard, self-proclaimed as Lord Voldemort, would follow in Wilhelm's footsteps. Mirroring his predecessor, he led a terrorist group known as the Death Eaters all across the continent, carrying out heinous crimes against humanity. The stronger would prevail against the weaker, they believed. That was the nature of life in all essence. For the future of the wizarding world, the ends would justify the means, and they would haunt history forevermore. For the Greater Good._

* * *

**Part I**  
**_Introductions_**

_"If only [they] could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter."_

Marcus Zusak

* * *

**December 1937**  
_Wool's Orphanage _ウールの孤児院

"Hey, if you stop running away from me, I'll tell you a secret."

The little footsteps preceding her came to a stop. Through the chatoyant gleam of lamplight, his wary dark irises met her own as flurries of white cavorted from the sky, forming a delusory curtain between them. "I thought I already told you to go away, witch," the boy's voice held a slight warning.

"Not interested?"

In the world of childhood purity, this boy was a defiant remnant of darkness. And that was precisely why she found him intriguing. All of her accomplices, former and present alike, were outcasts in a world they disdained, no different from herself. In the aimless seas of drifting time, she was just a passerby, a spectator to the transient events that befell humanity.

She watched as the itinerant candlelight flickered across his cadaverous features, flecking his insouciant eyes with sparks of gold.

He scowled, antipathy apparent in his voice. "Not in whatever you have to offer, I'm not. I know witches don't exist, so don't lie to me."

She only smiled serenely, though it never reached her eyes. She continued on, as if he had never spoken. "My secret is that I can see exactly what you desire. For you... it's power that you want. Power to change the world. To become the greatest, the endless; to never succumb to human mortalities."

The boy flinched, though his spiteful confidence quickly prevailed over the impending uneasiness. "And what of it? I can change nothing. I'm only an abandoned orphan. Good things don't happen to people like me."

The witch nestled herself comfortably in the snow banks, smile still intact. "Power, I can give you. Immortality, I cannot. But I will make a contract with you if you so desperately crave to venture beyond the boundaries of mortal capability."

This time, her words seemingly piqued the boy's interest, because a hungry gleam had emerged in his eyes. "Go on."

"If you accept, you will lead a life unlike no other. However, the power of the kings will condemn you to a life of solitude. You will cease to be who you once were. Great things come to those who persevere, but with power comes purgatory. Are you willing to live like that, Tom?"

The boy's thin lips turned upwards into a mirthless smile. "Is that all? Being lonely, I can accept. After all... "

He turned to stare upwards at the bleak December sky, looming above them in the greatest show of lofty indifference. "... I already am as it is."

* * *

**story 01**

『善業』

_Good Deeds_

* * *

To Suzaku Kururugi, he must have merely been Lelouch vi Britannia's good deed. He knew it from the moment they first met that there was no other plausible reason for the two of them to become friends. They were simply too different. One dark and withdrawn, one light and amicable. Wealthy and impoverished, influential and nobody.

And yet become friends they did.

Suzaku had found himself nearly strangled by a couple of muggle boys the day he encountered the youngest son of the Britannia family. In the aftermath of what he later learned was the first Wizarding War (the humans believed it was a natural disaster), he was one orphan out of thousands surviving on salvaged scraps in lamentable circumstances. The older children of the refugee camps had taken the liberty of abusing him everyday, simply because they _could,_ and because Suzaku was in no position to resist. To them, there couldn't have been anything more laughable than a "freak" who accidentally caused flowers to grow in such a dismal state of living.

And then, through the black spots dancing before his eyes, he had seen his unlikely savior approach from the caliginosity. A pale, thin, raven-haired boy with striking violet eyes and the finest clothes he had ever seen. So sophisticated, so refined and beautiful. He looked as if he couldn't win a fight to save his life.

But that apparently mattered not to this boy, or perhaps he was just a fool who never realized how disadvantageous the situation could have been for him. He marched over to the spectacle and ordered Suzaku's abusers to leave in a voice so cold and authoritative it sent shivers down Suzaku's spine. By all definition, the older boys, more than a whole head his superior, should have beaten him to a mince pie. But somehow, by some miracle, they obeyed his command without hesitation. At that moment, the stranger was no longer just a stunning marionette of impossible fragility, made of delicate porcelain; he was a king, and all before him his subjects. Suzaku watched as the hoodlums simply wandered off dazedly, as if they had important, untended business elsewhere and couldn't quite remember why they were bullying him to begin with.

That should have been the end of it, and Suzaku had finally convinced himself that the encounter was merely a hallucination amidst a bout of starvation when Lelouch returned the next day with a basket full of buttered bread and fluffy chocolate biscuits.

"Eat," said the boy curtly, offering him the basket by the handle. "You look like you're about to die."

He'd watched in silent amusement as Suzaku wolfed down nearly half the contents before sparing a breath to thank him.

At first, Suzaku thought Lelouch was just a little bit _troubled _and batty upstairs. He claimed that the flashes of green and red light that streaked across the sky at night weren't meteors, or signals gone haywire, and that rather they were spells being cast as post-war skirmishes erupted in his world while the "muggles" remained oblivious. This information had intrigued Suzaku so much that he blurted out the strangest things that had happened to him, despite the fact that Lelouch could hardly be considered a trustworthy confidant.

Reviving plants in winter. Accidentally capitulating a shack just because he was angry.

To his surprise, Lelouch never disparaged him for his strange abilities. Not once did he refer to Suzaku as "the freak," or even "nature boy" like the other refugee children. He simply eyed him with a thoughtful, all-knowing expression that shouldn't have been possible for a child of nine years old. But Lelouch vi Britannia wasn't like other children.

He was brilliant. Dark and gloomy for the most part, but nonetheless, impeccably intelligent. He harbored a near-obsessive interest in chess, even attempting to teach Suzaku how to play. This quickly proved a fruitless attempt, as a strategic game full of intricate wooden pieces was much too snobby for someone like Suzaku, who only sought survival and had no such time for luxury. And while Suzaku's "powers" hadn't helped him fare well in the slightest, it comforted him immensely when he discovered that Lelouch carried the same curse of magic. Unlike him, however, Lelouch prided himself for being a "wizard."

They were two drastically different people, and yet they had something in common. Perhaps that was what had drawn Suzaku to this quiet, self-important boy in the first place.

When he'd shared this sentiment with Lelouch, the latter had only blinked and calmly informed him that across the globe there were thousands of their kind. Somewhere out in the unknown, he claimed there existed a vivid, exuberant world full of the inconceivable. A world somehow at once familiar and yet so very dissimilar to what Suzaku knew.

Suddenly, it was as if someone had turned on the lights, and Suzaku's world wasn't so dark anymore. Not that he would ever divulge this.

He felt crushed when he learned that Lelouch was only staying for a few months. During the summer season. he had left the Britannia manor in Yorkshire along with his mother and youngest sister to reside in a picturesque lakeside cottage, the kind Suzaku could only envy. Lelouch was just a passerby who would bid him farewell soon enough. It made the days they had together all the more precious; nonetheless, Suzaku struggled to stay detached to a hopeless cause. It wasn't like their friendship would last.

Not that their relationship could be labelled as _friendship _at first. Aristocrats were lofty and unbearably pompous, and Suzaku was just... nobody. It was obvious Lelouch found him annoying, but that offered no articulate explanation as to why he frequented the refugee camp just to pay Suzaku a visit. Of course the boy claimed he cared not for happenings in the slums, but that didn't stop him from sneaking lamb fricassees and cheese soufflés to Suzaku, along with everything else that constituted the dining entries of the wealthy. They spent countless stolen hours together, experimenting with their magical abilities in unspeakable ways that must have been illegal, but were entrancing nonetheless to Suzaku; Lelouch was living, breathing proof that his life wasn't just a delusion of childish fantasy.

And while Suzaku hated admitting it at first, eventually he craved Lelouch's company, even if it meant grudgingly accepting their differences. For better or worse, they were now acquaintances, stuck to each other by the strangest of relations.

From Lelouch, Suzaku learned that magic was no malediction. In fact, it made him different; special, even. Wizards led a different life from the non-magic population; they used spells to do their bidding, even fight their wars.

But somewhere deep down, he knew they were different. Eventually, he would have to fight to keep their friendship intact, even if this "friend" was a dismal, seemingly withdrawn-from-society son of the most preeminent family in the world of magic.

The end of summer came too soon, and today, as he made the tedious journey in blazing afternoon sunlight from the dumpster camps all the way to the solitary cottage nestled on the edge of gloomy forest, Suzaku realized that their time together had finally drawn to a close. Tomorrow, Lelouch would return home, and Suzaku would be left once again as a friendless orphan. Heaven forbid they never saw each other again.

He stopped in front of the house, sunlit steeples adorned in flourishing petunias, before pushing open the moaning gate. The eyes of the statuesque garden gnome followed him as he slogged up the steps, anxiety rising. His bedraggled accoutrements made it clear that he shouldn't have been present anywhere near such a posh residence. Nevertheless, he knocked on the homestyle wooden door and prepared for a fight.

No answer.

A sleek gray cat sporting a rim of black fur around one eye rose from where it lay on the porch and growled at him. Suzaku whipped back to the door and knocked again, more frantically this time. Self-defense or not, surely he'd be flayed alive if he murdered the Britannia family cat.

"Lelouch, open the door!" He shrank away from the slinking cat—

"Arthur, no!" Two little hands scooped up the unsuspecting feline before it could pounce on his face.

Suzaku looked up.

Wide amethyst irises blinked back innocently, studying the unsolicited visitor with undisguised, utmost inquisitiveness. The little girl couldn't have been older than five or six, though her striking features made her appear older than she actually was. She had the appearance of a china doll, just as fair and lovely. Her hair was a waterfall of flaxen brown cascading down her back, complimented by simple chiffon flowers pinned into delicate curls.

"Hello," she greeted, ignoring the hissing, spitting creature she held in her arms. "I don't think I've seen you before."

Suzaku heaved a sigh of relief. "That's because it's my first time here. By any chance, is Lelou—"

"Come inside, Nunnally," a familiar voice interjected, and Lelouch vi Britannia materialized from seemingly nowhere. The golden sunbeams had done nothing for his vampishly white skin; if anything, he was even paler than before, as pasty as a ghost. "You really shouldn't open the door for strangers."

As the little girl scampered behind him, Lelouch regarded Suzaku with apathetic purple eyes. "Well?"

A particular piece of parchment nearly burned a hole in his back pocket, but Suzaku forced a fastidiously guileless smile. "I thought we'd go for a walk." Anything to elude the imminent departure that inevitably awaited them.

Lelouch scowled. "Last time we went for one, you pushed me into the stream."

"Because you were being annoying last time! And it was an accident!" Suzaku defended.

"You set a house on fire."

"It was you who said magic causes inadvertent accidents!"

"You dyed my hair _green_ with your stupid potions!"

"Well, we fixed it, didn't we?"

"... that doesn't change the fact that I don't want to see you right now." Lelouch gave Suzaku a withering stare and retreated back into the house.

"So we can't play today?" Lelouch was about to close the door when he caught sight of Suzaku's crestfallen expression. As if Suzaku had looked forward to seeing him one last time as much as he did. He sighed.

"Fine. A short walk then." Violet eyes narrowed. "But don't try anything funny, or I'll leave you to Arthur. Thought she was dying to slice you to pieces. Maybe she can smell ulterior motives."

Suzaku frowned. _"She?"_

"Euphemia named her."

"I see," said Suzaku dumbly, when in fact he did not see. He watched as Lelouch trudged past him, determined to stay ahead of him until he began huffing and puffing a few mere meters later. The boy honestly embodied the word "unathletic" at its finest.

"What are you staring for?" Lelouch's eyes flashed.

Suzaku had to stifle his smile. "Nothing in particular."

* * *

【魔法】

* * *

As the sun weakened to a red orb in the distance, two boys, one in rags and the other in silk, sat side by side on the shore of a lake. Twilight painted the lakeside cottages with aureate shades of gold and rouge, drenching the green eaves and white turrets as it set the vapid water aflame.

Time had seemingly stopped for the Wizarding world, because their architecture never seemed to advance past the Middle Ages. Eyeing the circumambient evergreen forests, Suzaku couldn't help but marvel the prospect that humans would never be aware of the world that had seamlessly morphed into their own with the passing of time, and yet somehow stayed ingeniously concealed by the most ordinary means.

Sorcery really gave him a headache.

Lelouch fiddled with a single chess piece, the Black King, while Suzaku skipped stones across the lake. After his tenth one, Lelouch threw him a look.

"It relaxes me," Suzaku said.

Lelouch picked up a rock and tossed it towards the water in a poor mimicry of Suzaku's earlier actions. It promptly plonked into the depths and sank like... well, a rock. Lelouch frowned.

"You know... I don't get why wizards have to live so far away from muggles." Suzaku threw a smooth pebble as far as he could, watching its transient flight across the eventide sky. "This place is so... secluded. Almost like you're hiding. Why would you do that, if you have all this power?"

He paused. "Don't you ever think about leaving?"

"No. Maybe because we like the peace while it lasts," said Lelouch, the roseate glow of dusk flecking his mauve eyes with hints of gold. "Power doesn't magically resolve all your problems. Or maybe we stay here because we don't want to leave the people important to us." He turned the wooden chess piece between his fingers absently. "Do you ever wonder where your family went?"

Suzaku flinched.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have—"

"No, it's alright." Suzaku went back to finding a new stone to skip. "... They're dead."

"... Oh."

He was grateful that Lelouch didn't offer him any of the prototypical, vexatious condolences that required no conception in thought. He understood that "_I'm so sorry for your loss" _meant nothing, and so he refrained from saying that altogether.

Lelouch curled his knees up to his chest. "Seclusion has its benefits, you know. No nosy neighbors or drop-in muggle salesmen. And usually, no suspicious friends who drag you along on walks."

Suzaku set down his rock. "So I'm suspicious now."

"Who asked you to show up? I was perfectly fine on my own."

Suzaku gaped at him, aghast. "Um, hello? In case you forgot, it was you who decided to save me that day."

"And I sorely regret it."

"But you always make an effort to visit me in the slums."

"Because you always seem so lonely and I felt sorry for you."

"I knew it!" Suzaku flared. "I'm just your _good deed,_ aren't I? Something to make your aimlessly luxurious life more interesting? I don't need your pity."

Lelouch didn't say anything for a long time.

"I don't find anything pitiable about you."

"Because I found you out," grumbled Suzaku.

"I visited you because to some extent, I don't hate you."

Suzaku tried to think of an appropriate response and took too long.

"Why did you want to talk to me anyways?" Lelouch resumed his imaginary one-chess-piece game against himself. "If this has something to do with goodbyes, I'm really not a sentimentalist in matters as such."

The unavoidable had finally arrived, despite all his "imperceptible" efforts to evade it. Suzaku shifted his weight awkwardly and gingerly retrieved the smooth parchment from his pocket.

"Um... here." He handed over his treasure and timorously picked at a loose thread on his clothing to distract himself lest he had to bear witness to a horrible reaction.

Lelouch accepted the paper and said nothing. His expression stayed stagnant, as ineffably dispassionate and unexcitable as ever. "What would I want this for?"

"So you don't forget about me," said Suzaku sheepishly. "You can throw it away if you want. I couldn't animate it properly... so just think of it as a muggle-made parting gift. I thought I'd give it to you since... well. We probably won't see each other again." He forced himself to look at the other boy, voice dwindling inexplicably soft. "You _will_ remember, won't you?"

"Maybe," said Lelouch; his halfhearted response didn't touch the forlorn wistfulness lingering in his violet irises, fixated purposefully on the vast world sprawled before them, awash in sunset.

Together, they watched in comfortable silence as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, leaving an indigo curtain of darkness in its wake. Somewhere in the distance, the mellow chimes of the town clock resounded softly in the tranquil placidity of night. Sugary spreads of stars twinkled to life in the nebulous sky as moonlight traced the surface of the lake with silver lining, lulling the world to sleep.

"Lelouch..."

"Hmm?"

Suzaku gazed upwards at Polaris, beaming back at him several light years away. Tomorrow night, would Lelouch be just as far away, an unattainable fragment of his past?

"Why were you kind to me? It's not like I can give you anything back in return. I can't even buy you a proper gift."

Perhaps it was a figment of his imagination, but Suzaku thought he saw the faintest of smiles grace Lelouch's thin lips. The boy slipped the polaroid photograph into his coat with care, but not before Suzaku caught one last glance of their smiling faces, immortalized in time on a square of paper.

"Because you're my friend."

* * *

【魔法】

* * *

**Two Years Later**  
_Wool's Orphanage _ウールの孤児院

A letter had arrived for him by way of the wizened gray owl perched day after day in the branches before his windowsill. A simple epistle, inked on prim, bloodless parchment in fine green ink and stamped with a cordial red "H" penned in bold calligraphy.

Shaking fingers traced over the penned date, careful not to smudge the ink.

Dare he hope to see _him,_ the first friend he had ever had, in a mere month? He couldn't resist a smile. A single, heartwarming ray of hope was still hope nonetheless.

_Lelouch._

* * *

つづく 。。。

* * *

**A****N: **_Fukkatsu__ no Lelouch_ made me dig all over my files for this old piece I started an impossibly long time ago. After a lot of revising, here is chapter one! Hopefully, it's cute enough for a beginning. I always felt that Code Geass and Harry Potter are pretty similar to each other, so first fic = crossover. I honestly don't think this story will have a lot of Suzalulu, because I see them as primarily friends, but I really wanted to appreciate the relationship these two have.

_p.s. _The quote is from Billie Eilish's Idontwannabeyouanymore, but I changed the "I love you" to "forever" since it makes more sense that way. Thank you very much for reading!

xoxo V.


	2. Hogwarts

**Amaranthine**

コードギアス Harry Potter

_Important Information:_ I know it's probably strange for Lelouch to be a Gryffindor, given how intelligent and ambitious he is, but I got the idea from one of the "Sorting Hat" tests that calculate your "House traits" down to the percent. i thought it would be interesting to take the test from Lelouch's perspective, and he would be likely be 31% Gryffindor and 29% Slytherin; it's surprising at first, but in retrospect, he's very daring, almost reckless at times. And definitely, you would have to be really brave to sacrifice yourself for your sister and the sake of the world. So into Gryffindor he goes.  


* * *

I do not own _Code Geass_ and _Harry Potter,_ or their respective characters. All rights belong to Sunrise animation studio and J.K. Rowling, creators of the series.

* * *

**story 02**

『ホグワーツ』

_Hogwarts_

* * *

**Hogwarts Express, Platform 9**  
_King's Cross Station, London _キングスクロス駅

The sight of the scarlet steam engine filled Lelouch with both excitement and dread.

_Apprehensive, _he decided, _that's what I am._

Today, September 1st, he would finally leave for Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry and start his ascension towards a full member of the Wizarding World. Unbeknownst to the sleepy population of London, platform nine and three quarters was alive with occasion. In fact, it was a menagerie of chaos—regardless of where Lelouch looked, he was met with the same scene of disheveled children and slightly affronted magical animals crammed into every corner of the platform. As the children scrambled for their things and bid their families hasty farewells, the adults were tearfully hugging their children goodbye or giving their very best attempt to distance themselves from their kids in an endeavor to avoid shedding unnecessary tears and failing to accomplish the aforementioned.

Lelouch frowned at his prim, pure black robes, smoothing them carefully as to not disturb the gray cat perched on his shoulder. They were plain and unelaborate, devoid of any ornamentation; certainly _different _from what he was used to. Eyeing a group of reticent first years that trudged languidly past him, he suddenly found it hard to wrap his mind around the fact of living at school. He hadn't spent a single second away from home alone thanks to his overprotective parents.

Then again, life at school must be positively _dripping freedom, _at least compared to life back home. In the Britannia household, governed by their father's unforgiving reign, the children practically marched in lines, wore specifically assigned uniforms, and followed unbelievably strict schedules that calculated their daily activities to the minute; in all honestly, it was more of a military academy than a home.

Lelouch let out a diminutive breath he didn't realize he had been holding, savoring the gentle cordiality of the morning sunlight as it dusted upon his face. Everything would be okay. He would convince himself as much.

Small hands wrapped around his chest, and he could hear Nunnally's quiet whimpering, muffled by his robes as she buried her face into the black cloth.

"I want to go too," she whined, squeezing him so desperately that Lelouch, despite being three years older, started feeling the effects of an impending tantrum of an eight year old that would bid his own cool facade goodbye.

"Now, Nunnally," a gentle voice spoke behind him, and delicate hands pried Nunnally away from her brother.

Lelouch shot a grateful look at his rescuer, his younger sister Euphemia.

Euphy, despite being only ten years old, always radiated an aura of natural grace that Nunnally... well, Nunnally was still _working_ on it. Still, Lelouch could see quite evidently that Euphemia held her composure only for Nunnally's sake, trying in vain to ignore the small droplets of water gathering in the corners of her eyes.

Lelouch smiled faintly at their expense. "I'm just going to school. You two make it seem as if you'll never see me again."

Euphy managed a watery smile, gently comforting Nunnally.

"Lelouch is going to write to us every day! Right, Lulu?"

The raven-haired boy considered the prospect that he been underestimating Euphemia all these years. Her smile was sweet, and her eyes looked friendly enough, but upon meeting her demanding gaze, he got the feeling that the repercussions would be severe should he dare fail to uphold his side of the promise. _"No"_ didn't seem to serve as an adequate answer given the present situation.

Lowering his gaze to find Nunnally's glassy lavender irises, with his sister now clinging onto Euphy like a lifeline, he offered her his best attempt at a warm smile.

"Uh... of course I will."

That seemed to placate his younger sister a little. Still struggling to suppress her sniffles, she was about to use her frilly red dress as a handkerchief when suddenly a piece of cloth materialized in front of her face, courtesy of their ever-present maid Sayoko. While Nunnally graciously accepted the gift with a sniff and a small murmur of thanks, Lelouch sheepishly returned his attention to his Euphemia, who was now studying him interrogatively.

"You _will_ write to us, won't you?" Her voice held a touch of doubt, as if her earlier confidence had deflated.

"I will," Lelouch assured her hastily; he would rather not have to deal with Nunnally and Euphy both crying at his expense. "Though, maybe not every day... you wouldn't mind if I did maybe two or three times a week, right?"

Euphy smiled faintly. "Good enough." She sighed, looking at the proud red engine with longing. "And to think I still have to wait another year to go..."

That was yet another prospect that made Lelouch uncomfortable. Of course, part of him was glad Euphy would be joining him soon at Hogwarts, but he couldn't help but feel a little guilty leaving Nunnally alone for two long years. Yes, she would have their parents, and he knew that they would ensure no harm would come to his younger sister; however, that didn't change the fact that she would be alone in a very big mansion, without any children her age to keep her company. And there was no way in hell he would let the likes of some stranger anywhere near his sweet, innocent little sister.

Lelouch forced a reassuring smile for Euphy regardless.

"Don't worry, a year will fly fast," he said. "Besides, I'll be back for Christmas, so you'll still have to put up with me." He lowered his voice ever so slightly, eyeing the circumambient myriads of bustling travelers for potential eavesdroppers. "Take care of Nunnally for me, okay?"

Euphy sighed contentedly. "Of course I will. I promise." She slammed into him with a hug, nearly knocking the cat off his shoulder.

"Stay safe, Lelouch."

"Yeah, yeah, sure."

A whistle sounded in the distance, and Lelouch turned towards the train. Through a puff of smoke, he could make out the other black-robed first years, clambering towards the boarding entrance with wide smiles adorning each and every one of their faces. _Perhaps the interior of the train was made of chocolate,_ Lelouch mused, wondering how in the world this formerly agitated group of children now appeared so happy all of a sudden.

He was just about to drag his unbelievably colossal suitcase towards the boarding entrance when someone stuffed a pouch into his hands. "I brought you something to eat for the ride to school, Lulu. You know I don't want you to eat all that candy."

"Mom—"

"Did you bring your teddy bear? All your chess pieces? Enough quills?"

"I'm sure I checked—"

His mother wrapped him into a big bear hug, engulfing him in layers of mauve cloak.

"Lulu dear, remember to eat well, and sleep at curfew. Don't break any school rules, study hard, and be a nice boy. I'm going to miss you... how in the world did you get so big?" She placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, weaving her fingers through his soft raven hair. "... I love you, my little prince."

"Marianne." His father's voice sounded muffled. He never seemed very caring in the slightest, but was that... pride? "You're going to make him late for the train at this rate."

"Mom..." He clutched at her clothes involuntarily, inhaling the fleeting scent of familiarity. "I love you too."

"You need to hurry, master Lelouch," Sayoko had already loaded his trunk onto the train, and with a last hug from Euphy and Nunnally (who both made a valiant effort to look brave, for the better or worse), Lelouch raced through the sea of foreign faces towards the red engine, shiny cerise paint glittering in the sunlight. He leapt onto the steps just as the abeyant engine roared to life. A cloud of achromatic steam obscured the silhouettes of those he left behind as it dissipated into bright morning air. As the train sputtered down the railway, he remained at the doorway for a few more moments, waving at his parents and sisters until they became infinitesimal specks in the distance before finally stepping into the corridor properly.

He frowned. The other first years were nowhere to be seen, long since disappeared down the aisle.

Great. There was no way he could disturb Schneizel or Cornelia, and he had no other acquaintances on the train except Clovis. He definitely harbored no desire to sit with his brother and his wayward friends. The best case scenario would be finding an empty compartment and spending the journey there, but at this point in time the chances of that happening was almost nonexistent.

He trudged down the cherrywood corridor, dragging his trunk behind him (thank god for his father putting the feather-light charm on it, otherwise he wouldn't be able to move it even an inch) and peered into every window on his way. Most were filled to the brim with students, and even through the glass panels their raucous voices and animated conversations made him wince. He was just an stranger who wouldn't find any sense of familiarity amongst old, established friends. It wasn't as if he had boarded a friendship train anyways (making friends proved quite difficult given his personality, and the fact that he had spent most of childhood enclosed in a heavily guarded mansion).

Eventually, he started to worry that he would be forced to spend the whole journey alone in the corridor if he refused to sit with anyone, but towards the end of the interminable aisle he finally reached a compartment that looked mostly empty. The only occupants were two boys, sitting across from each other. Figuring this was the best he would get, Lelouch shrugged and slid opened the door slightly, poking his head in.

Two heads swiveled in his direction, one with fiery red hair and a pale, freckled complexion, the other with unruly black hair and round glasses perched before gleaming emerald eyes. Lelouch shuffled awkwardly in.

"Hi. Do you mind if I sit here?" It wasn't like they could forbid him to, but surely it didn't hurt to be polite.

The dark-haired boy smiled brightly and nodded, hastily scooting over to make room on his side of the bench, while the ginger-haired boy studied him with dubious apprehension apparent in his eyes. Lelouch wasn't sure what to make of that reaction, but he took it as an invitation to stay silent as he plopped himself unceremoniously next to Harry in an exhausted heap of black robes.

Arthur the cat curled up in his lap and immediately fell asleep; Lelouch mentally cursed himself for the fact that he hadn't asked for an owl instead, knowing full well that Arthur would likely sleep for most of the time.

"Hello," said the freckled boy. "I'm Ron. And this is Harry."

"Harry?" Lelouch immediately whirled to the boy beside him, eyes involuntarily traveling towards the messy black locks that obscured his forehead. "As in—"

"Potter. The one with the scar, yes." Harry sighed. He quickly shrugged to dismiss the matter and offered his hand to Lelouch. "Nice to meet you, um..."

Remembering his manners, Lelouch quickly averted his gaze and grasped the outstretched hand firmly.

"It's nice to meet you too. I'm Lelouch vi Britannia."

"I knew it!"

Both Lelouch and Harry whipped around to the direction of the third boy, who immediately blushed a shade as crimson as his hair upon realizing his own outburst.

"I mean..." he stuttered, shuffling nervously in his old robes, "Your eyes are purple... just like every Britannia there is."

Lelouch tilted his head, a smirk playing at his pale lips. "Fair enough. But how do you know I'm not a metamorphmagus?"

The ginger-haired boy frowned in dismay at the revelation of a novel feasibility, while Harry eyed Lelouch with newfound attentiveness. "What's a metamorphmagus?"

"It's a witch or wizard who can change their appearance at will, without the need to use potions or spells. You have to be born that way, so there isn't a way to become one."

"So that's why your eyes are purple? You changed their color?" Harry seemed fascinated by the idea. "I've never seen anybody with purple eyes..."

Lelouch sighed, deciding that Harry was way too sincere to keep this act up in front of him. "No," he replied. "That's my natural eye color. I'm no metamorphmagus."

Harry's face fell, appearing somewhat disappointed, though Lelouch couldn't quite fathom why he would be bothered by that fact; meanwhile, Ron gloated with unabashed triumph.

Lelouch glared. "So, since my eye color is such an indication of who I am, I assume that your hair color suggests that you're a Weasley." He was just playing a wild card, to be honest. He had never met any of the Weasleys, but it was inevitable that he would hear things living under the same roof as too many siblings to count.

Ron immediately stiffened, which told Lelouch he had hit a bullseye.

"So what if I am?"

"Nothing," Lelouch said quickly. He sighed, slightly intimidated by the fact that Ron seemed so disquieted over a simple question.

"Is it my robes?" Ron continued hastily, desperately smoothing his clothing. "I know they're old, but still wearable..."

"I don't think being a Weasley is bad at all," Lelouch quickly amended. He hoped it would placate the situation at least slightly, if politeness could ever compensate for outspokenness.

"Not _bad," _Ron huffed, flicking a speck of dust off his robes with relish. "Lelouch, everyone knows about your family. You're rich, and powerful; me, well..."

"It doesn't make you any lesser than us," said Lelouch.

Ron blinked at him in surprise, confusion marring his features. Clearly, he had been expecting a fight. Lelouch scrounged every corner of his memory for information on the Weasleys, but it came up blank. They just hadn't been important enough for his family to pay attention to. Maybe that was the problem. Out of all the eldest pureblood Wizarding families, the Weasleys were always regarded as... well, just Weasleys.

"So, Lelouch," it was Harry who spoke, snatching him out from his reverie; he was seemingly desperate to relieve the tension that had accumulated in the compartment. "Are you a pureblood wizard-born like Ron?"

Lelouch studied his companion closely. With disheveled hair and bedraggled muggle clothing that looked about two sizes two big, he was nothing like the great hero that the media made him out to be. His glasses sat crookedly upon his nose, having been broken and repaired haphazardly by a piece of tape. For the savior of the wizarding world, it didn't look like he got many rewards for superior looks.

"Yes," he replied evenly.

"I see," Harry said. "So, do you have any family at Hogwarts? Ron has three brothers."

"For now, my brothers Clovis and Schneizel are in years four and seven; prefect and head boy, respectively. And my sister Cornelia is in year six."

"Is it true that there are thirteen kids in your family?"

Harry's eyes widened at the insensitive question, while Ron's ears went pink the moment he comprehended the weight of the words that had just left his mouth. Lelouch leveled him with an icy glare. His large family definitely wasn't his favorite subject, as people usually surmised that influential Wizarding families had an immense number of children simply because they needed means of navigating the community through impermissible ways.

"Yes. So?"

Harry and Ron gaped at him.

"Thirteen? Are you serious?" Then, as if he had only just realized the rudeness of his inquiry, Harry coughed awkwardly and looked away. "Um, I mean, it's none of my business..."

Lelouch sighed heavily, reaching down to pat his sleeping cat as Arthur nestled comfortably into his black robes. "Don't worry about it."

"Okay..." Harry shuffled his feet nervously, obviously not knowing what to say, and for a few moments they lapsed into an enduringly uncomfortable silence. Then came the lady with the cart, which effectively summoned the attentions of both Harry and Ron to the candy and away from the less-than-pleasing topic of Lelouch's family.

Lelouch suppressed a sigh, peering out the window as the Hogwarts express raced down the tracks, giving him catches of the sprawling, hilly landscape. Only half an hour in and he already missed Nunnally and Euphy. In no mood for chocolate and licorice, he peered into the contents of the bag and was slightly pleased to find a pouch of honey cakes.

Chomping cake, Lelouch was content to sift through a book and let his companions hover excitedly over the immense heap of candy now piled between the two of them. He politely refused any Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, and was mostly left alone until the doors of their compartment were flung open with a discordant _bang_ and a panting boy barged inside. Lelouch looked up just in time to see a startled Harry drop his chocolate frog in surprise.

"Sorry," the unsolicited visitor gasped; he rightened himself hurriedly, as if just noticing his lack of composure. A streak of electric blue hair fell over his eyes. "Have any of you seen a toad? Neville lost his." Lelouch studied him curiously. His robes were still black, unclaimed by any house color; another first year.

Harry and Ron both mutely shook their heads, and the boy sighed. "I've looked everywhere..."

"Why don't you ask an older student or a prefect to _accio_ it for you?" Lelouch nibbled the last honey cake and tried not to look at the frog, now crawling up the compartment wall in his peripheral vision.

The boy blinked. "_Accio_ it?" He echoed, clearly without the faintest of understandings. Lelouch deduced that the boy was likely muggleborn and therefore had no exposure to such spells.

"Yes. It's a spell that allows you summon lost objects. It should work on a toad."

The boy's elvish face broke into a wide smile as the realization settled. "Great! Thanks, um, what's-your-name!" And then he was gone.

"Who'd want a toad? If I brought one, I'd lose it as quick as I could," Ron piped up. His face quickly morphed into a slight frown. "Then again, I brought Scabbers, so I can't really judge..."

Lelouch peeked at the fat old rat laying on Ron's lap. "Is it dead?" He asked.

Ron eyed the animal, repulsed. "No, but he could be, and you wouldn't see any difference," he said. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, watch..." He pulled out a very battered looking wand from his trunk, and Lelouch wondered briefly how anyone could even hope to properly cast a spell with such a wand. Ron cleared his throat and was about to say something, when the compartment door slammed open once again and a girl marched inside, looking absolutely livid.

"Who told Rivalz to use a spell to summon Neville's toad?" She demanded. The bossiness with which she conducted herself clearly affirmed her position in society as a person who perhaps had trouble minding her own respective business. Both Harry and Ron immediately looked at Lelouch, who glowered back. _Traitors._

"That would be me," he drawled, putting his book aside (it seemed like he wouldn't get much peace after all) and addressing the towering girl, who had lots of bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth. She gestured at a pudgy boy cowering behind her in the shadowy corridor, who Lelouch had only just realized existed.

"Well, thanks to you, Trevor almost died!"

Lelouch surveyed the boy behind her. If that was Trevor, he didn't look "almost dead." Yes, he was crying and hugging something to his chest, but... Lelouch narrowed his eyes. On second thought, that "something" looked suspiciously like a toad. Apparently, she had meant the creature instead of the boy.

"And how is Trevor's condition my fault in any way?"

The girl sniffed imperiously in a way that reminded him very much of Guinevere and frowned at him accusingly. "Well, _Prince Pretty-face, _we _tried_ to use the spell, but it smashed Trevor straight into a wall!"

"... I still don't see how that's my fault."

The girl crossed her arms, perhaps in an attempt to appear intimidating. "Well, it was your idea."

Lelouch rolled his eyes. "And it's my responsibility to know whether students can perform spells properly?" He asked in disbelief. "Did you even ask a prefect or just some random person on the train?" Even Clovis would be better. For all his nonsense, he didn't become a prefect completely for nothing. "In the end, at least you found the toad, didn't you?"

The girl paused, as if she hadn't yet considered this. She had opened her mouth to deliver what Lelouch suspected was yet another spiel of nonsense before her eyes strayed to Ron's wand, still in hand, and the toad issue was immediately left forgotten.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."

In the whole commotion, a disconcerted Ron looked as if he had forgotten what exactly he had been doing. He looked at Scabbers in dismay, then at his wand, and back at the rat. "Er... all right." He cleared his throat awkwardly.

Everyone watched in silence as Ron raised his wand and recited shakily, _"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow." _

Nothing happened. The rat didn't even wake up. In all his eleven years, this was the first time Lelouch had witnessed a spell that failed to work. The girl, seeming to share his sentiment, was looking at Ron with a skeptical expression.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" She asked doubtfully.

Ron flushed cherry red, seemingly lost for words.

The girl sighed. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course! I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard. I've learned all our course books by heart; I just hope it will be enough. That reminds me, I'm Hermione Granger, by the way; who are you all?"

After the long exclamation, a good half of the compartment studied her bemusedly, including the boy who must have been Neville. Harry and Ron exchanged befuddled glances, while Lelouch propped his head up with his palm and fought to suppress a yawn, already bored with this conversation.

A Know-It-All. _Wonderful._

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Harry Potter," said Harry.

Lelouch didn't even get to introduce himself, because after hearing Harry's name Hermione exploded into yet another perdurable monologue.

"Are you really?" She trilled excitedly. "I know all about you, of course! I got a few extra books. For background reading, that is... You're in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."_

"Am I?" said Harry, looking dazed.

"Goodness, don't you know anything? I'd have found out everything I could if it were me," said Hermione. "By the way, do any of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds the best by far! I heard that Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad..." She spun sharply on her heel. "Anyway, we'd better go and take care of Neville's toad." She eyed Harry and Ron. "You two should change, you know. I expect we'll be there soon."

On that pleasant note, she and Neville promptly left, leaving the three of them in silence for the second time that day.

"I hope she does end up in Ravenclaw," muttered Ron, pocketing his wand. "At least then I won't have to put up with her." For once, Lelouch couldn't help but share this sentiment.

"What house do you think you'll be in?" Harry inquired curiously.

Ron frowned in agitation. "My whole family was in Gryffindor, even Mom and Dad. I don't know what they'd say if I wasn't..." he quickly directed his next question at Lelouch. "What about your family, Lelouch?"

Lelouch feigned interest in the nearest wall so that he wouldn't have to meet Ron's eyes. "Slytherin. Everyone so far."

In truth, the only house that he truly found himself captivated by was Ravenclaw, the house of wisdom and intellect. It was the perfect house at Hogwarts. Just the right amount of cleverness and individuality combined. He wouldn't have to put up with overly amicable Hufflepuffs or domineering Slytherins, and definitely not the mindlessly eager-for-a-death-quest Gryffindors. Lelouch knew he had the brains for Ravenclaw, so he was positive he could make it. Definitely. Probably.

To take his mind off the subject of the houses, Lelouch tried to start a new topic. "So... do any of you play chess?" It came out maybe a bit harsher than he intended. Ron's face lit up, and that took Lelouch by surprise. He certainly didn't expect the freckled boy to like chess. Granted, it didn't mean he was any good, but still... one opponent was better than playing himself all the time, or heaven forbid, Clovis. Winning after less than two minutes got old after awhile.

"How about you, Harry?"

The Boy Who Lived shrugged and ran his hand through his hair awkwardly, tousling the scruffy black tresses enough to reveal the famous lightning scar beneath his messy black fringe. His eyeglasses were decidedly more crooked now, steadily slipping off his nose. Lelouch fought the urge to reach out and straighten them for him.

"I know how to play, sort of... but I didn't have much chance to practice, so I'm not really good..."

So that left only Ron. Good or not, he would soon find out. "Well, if you're up for a match, then you know where to find your opponent."

"Deal," Ron grinned. _Certainly confident. _Maybe the Weasley would prove to be someone interesting after all.

"So, what's your favorite Quidditch team?"

_... Or not._

The oh-so-fascinating discussion about the finer points of sports was promptly interrupted by the unannounced arrival of three boys, two of whom resembled human trolls, and the third with perhaps an even paler complexion than Lelouch, which was saying something. His platinum blond hair hung over his forehead, so close to white it was as if he had bleached it out. Judging from the air with which he carried himself, he was presumably the leader of the thug group.

"Is it true?" The pale boy simpered. His voice high and arrogant, layered with the snootiest accent Lelouch had ever heard. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So which one of you is he?" He looked between Harry and Lelouch, completely omitting Ron at first glance.

_Well, _thought Lelouch, _being taken for the Boy Who Lived is a new one._

"It's me," said Harry. His emerald eyes strayed to the two boys flanking their leader like two uglified garden gnomes with an expression of nervous apprehension.

"Oh, that's Crabbe and Goyle, pay them no attention." The pale boy waved his hand carelessly in the direction of his boorish companions, suggesting that they weren't of the slightest importance. "My name is Draco Malfoy. And who are you?" He directed the last question at Lelouch, once again ignoring Ron.

"Lelouch vi Britannia," Lelouch said warily. He definitely knew more about the infamous Malfoys than he did about Weasleys. It was suffice to say that most of them were not at all pleasing. Draco's eyes widened slightly, before his cool, collected facade immediately returned.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance." He nodded politely, before once again addressing only Harry and Lelouch. "You two should come sit with us. There is no need for people such as yourself to associate themselves with this Weasley."

Ron turned a vehement shade of red for the third time that day, and Harry clenched his fists. Lelouch watched silently, musing at the turn of events that had come to play. Draco Malfoy was a perfect example of pureblood-idealist idiocy. Not surprising, really. The Malfoys were said to be loyal followers of the late Dark Lord, despite the measures they had taken to present themselves innocent to the rest of the Wizarding community. Apparently, the whole spectacle that Lucius Malfoy, head of the house, had orchestrated involved depicting himself as a hapless victim of the Imperius curse and finding others as scapegoats. He had unveiled crucial pieces of information that led to the capture of many Death Eaters evading authorities; it was nothing more than a ploy to ensure that the Malfoy family got away with their crimes during the reign of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. However, that was just a rumor, and therefore Lelouch knew it wouldn't be a good idea to indulge upon it.

Lelouch had seen enough of haughty, conceited purebloods at Britannia family gatherings of mandatory attendance, which existed mostly for the purpose of show. He certainly didn't need the company of any more at school. (One more reason to go to Ravenclaw, where none of his family members would be there to impose their ideals upon him.) Still, it wouldn't fare well to make enemies on his first day. It wasn't like he stood any chance against Malfoy's goonies anyways, given his thin, weak physique.

"No, thanks." Harry replied coolly. "I think I'll choose who to associate with myself, thank you very much."

Malfoy's confidence faltered slightly, but Harry's rejection appeared to deter him very little. "I'd be careful if I were you, _Potter," _he sneered, a hint of threat lingering in his voice. "Unless you're a bit politer, you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the _Weasleys_ and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

Both Harry and Ron leapt out of their seats, fury prominent in their features. Draco promptly ignored them and turned to Lelouch instead.

"And what about you, Britannia? A pureblood from a noble family? You would prefer to belittle yourself and befriend the likes of Weasley as well?"

That latter option definitely posed superior, but there was no need for Malfoy to know that. The Britannia family was, after all, all about appearances. Lelouch didn't want to be proclaimed a blood traitor on his very first day at school; he would need connections with the wizarding world in the future. And unfortunately, that included the pureblood families.

"You misunderstand me, Malfoy. I prefer to associate myself with those that fit my interests." Lelouch said carefully, each word meticulously calculated prior to formation. "Ron Weasley promised me a chess match later. Harry says he can play, too. Do you play chess, Draco?" He asked innocently.

Malfoy puffed out his chest proudly. "Of course! Every _proper_ pureblood wizard knows how to play chess!"

"Do they?" Lelouch drawled. "What of the company you keep? I take it that _they_ know how to play too?" With an inclination of his head, he casually gestured towards Crabbe and Goyle, hovering on either side of Malfoy with permanently dumbfounded faces. Black robes as shapeless as potato sacks failed to do any favors for their corpulent bodies, only further pronouncing their uncanny semblance to a pair of ogres.

The pale boy furrowed his thin brows and turned to his two companions.

"Of course they do! Right, Crabbe, Goyle?" The look Malfoy sent his companions clearly stated that the aftermath would be severe should they dare reply anything different.

The two lumbering trolls looked at each other and scratched their chins absently. "Err, yeah," muttered Goyle, Crabbe following suit.

Lelouch grinned mischievously. "Great! It just so happens that I have a chessboard with me. Would you care for a match, Crabbe? And you, Goyle?"

Before either of the hoodlums could respond, Malfoy interjected frantically. "Wait! I can play you, Britannia. Forget about those two, they'd probably lose anyway," his statement was offhanded enough, but the slight trace of trepidation written across his face made the truth clear.

Lelouch's face fell. "But I was supposed to play against Ron. Do you want to substitute for a _Weasley, _Draco?"

Malfoy looked taken aback for once. _Checkmate._ Lelouch had effectively used his own weakness of being unable to recognize a family of "lesser importance" as his equal against himself. Eventually, Malfoy cleared his throat awkwardly and said hurriedly, "Right, well. We'll probably be arriving at Hogwarts in no time, so there's not much time left anyway. We'll have that chess match when we meet in Slytherin common room. See you later." And then he was gone, his thugs trailing his wake.

Lelouch's eye twitched. He. Would. Be. In. _Ravenclaw. _Certainly, The Sorting Hat didn't rely on the traditions of a family's housing as its only measure?

Ron made a strangled noise in his throat, and Lelouch turned his attention to the red-haired boy. "What?" He asked curiously.

Ron crossed his arms and tried to glare at him, but evidently, he'd had little practice, because he ended up looking like a toad instead. "Why does it feel like you just insulted me?" he muttered darkly.

"But you're not sure that I just did?" Lelouch couldn't help himself.

Ron's face darkened, so the raven-haired boy just sighed. "Look, I wasn't trying to offend you or anything. It just came out like that."

"You're taking Malfoy's side!"

Lelouch ogled him at the ridiculous accusation, for once dumbfounded. If anything, it was the other way around!

"Hey, come on," Harry tried to placate his two new friends. Without much success.

Ron's face turned into an ugly sneer.

"I bet your family's just like Malfoy's! Purebloods, titles, money... that's all that matters to you. Also, it's not just your eyes I saw as a hint for who you are, by the way. You _important_ families always look so prejudiced and formal at first glance... it's like you know everything and already think the rest of us are inferior!"

"Shut your mouth," Lelouch growled. "What do you know about me? Nothing!" He was quickly regretting staying on Ron's side of the argument. Draco Malfoy may have embodied the epitome of pureblood inanity, but he certainly wasn't quick to assume a hypercritical stance regarding his allies.

"You probably wish you had gone with him, don't you? Do us a favor and go ahead then. No one wants a future Death Eater here!"

"Come again?" Voice dangerously soft, Lelouch forcefully slammed his book against the table, waking his cat in the process. Looking thoroughly miffed, Arthur gave him a steely bullion-eyed look of utmost indignation and settled herself above his trunk, sleek gray fur now poofed in agitation. Through the apertures of raven locks that had fallen over his eyes, he saw Ron shudder involuntarily under his unblinking violet gaze.

"The truth hurts, doesn't it? Here's an idea—"

"Quiet!"

Both Ron and Lelouch froze at the sight of the previously timid Harry, now standing between them, green eyes aflame.

"You!" He rounded on Lelouch, who glared right back. "You shouldn't have said something like that to Malfoy. No matter your intentions, it was rude to Ron!"

"And you!" He whirled to face Ron before Lelouch even had a chance to open his mouth to fire a retort. "You shouldn't have just started insulting him like that! How does that makes you better than Malfoy?"

Ron's already beet-red face turned eggplant purple, and Harry sighed, a little more calmly. "Now, apologize to each other."

Lelouch huffed internally at the prospect of having a mother hen at Hogwarts as he and Ron looked at each other, still practically fuming despite the standoffish armistice that had been reached.

Ron was the first to break the silence. "Fine. Sorry," he muttered, looking pointedly out the window. He seemed more ashamed of being scolded by Harry than accusing Lelouch as being apart of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's terrorist followers.

Lelouch scoffed. A few hours in a train and he couldn't negotiate any form of peace. He had nothing to apologize for. It wasn't like he had done anything wrong; for all his efforts to save them all some dignity, _this_ was his gracious compensation? Still, under the scrutinizing gaze of the Boy Who Lived, he finally relented.

"Whatever," Lelouch huffed, turning away. Only after feeling the intense green gaze burning into the back of his head did he finally burst out, "Fine! Sorry!" He was about to add, _Happy?_ but eventually decided against it. After all, it wouldn't do to be on the bad side of the savior of the Wizarding World.

Ron still wasn't looking at him, so Lelouch decided that for once, he would be the better person. For once.

"I'm still waiting for that chess match when we get to the castle," he grumbled.

Ron warily raised his eyes from the window and slowly nodded. The olive branch was accepted, and Harry smiled in relief.

Finally worn out by all that had transcended, all three children were content to stay in reposeful silence as the faint _click-clack_ of the Hogwarts express drowned out the faint tintinnabulation of its own echo.

* * *

【魔法】

* * *

The sun had set by the time the train reached its destination, depositing its restless passengers in the Highlands of Scotland.

The castle was breathtakingly beautiful, especially outlined amid the starlit night sky. One by one, the first years climbed into small boats, staring beguiled at the glowing spires towering in the distance as they glided across the lake silently. Through the flickering flames of marmalade ceiled within myriads of lanterns, Lelouch could barely make out their surroundings as the little boats emerged through curtains of ivy and moss, revealing a wide opening in the cliff face leading into the unknown.

They floated through a dark passageway that ferried them right beneath the structure of the castle, until the boats finally reached an underground harbor of sorts. The shuffling crowd of first years clumsily exited their boats to clamber above onto the rocky shoreline, following the keeper of keys and grounds (Lelouch suspected he was a giant, or at least half) towards the entrance of the castle.

Beneath the great shadow of a thousand-year-old legacy, Lelouch suddenly felt very small. He was but a single aspect in one meager phase of time, ready to be swept away by a particularly impertinent tide.

"Firs' years! Firs' years, over here!" Hagrid turned to the children, waving his giant arms hastily to round them up. "C'min close, now."

Lelouch carefully scooted closer to Hagrid, along with the others. The man was, after all, huge, with a very bushy beard and sheeny dark eyes. However, Harry had confirmed that Hagrid was very nice, despite his rugged appearance. Lelouch decided to trust him for now.

Hagrid knocked a few times and the doors immediately swung open, revealing a tall, black-haired witch clad in emerald-green robes standing before the gateway.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take over from here."

The Professor led them through a towering vestibule into a magnificent foyer held by elaborately carved buttresses, then into a small side chamber at the end of a labyrinthine corridor. Through the wall, Lelouch could perceive the affable cacchination of a thousand voices, pervading the walls from the heart of the fortress. In the flickering lampshade, the first years exchanged apprehensive looks amongst themselves, before finally, McGonagall spoke, her voice resounding through the once impermeable silence of the narrow chamber.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony, students, because while you are here, you will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your assigned common room."

"The four houses are known as Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each one has its own noble history, and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards over the span of time in which this school has existed. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house reward points, while any rulebreaking will cost you house points. At the end of the year, the unit with the most gracious quantity of the aforementioned will be awarded the house cup, a great honor. It is my wish that each of you will become a worthy credit to whichever house becomes yours."

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. I shall return when we are ready for you; please wait quietly."

The professor promptly retreated from the chamber in a swish of malachite robes, leaving behind an affrighted crowd of first years.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" Harry whispered tensely from somewhere besides Lelouch.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking," replied Ron, just as quietly.

Lelouch couldn't help but snort. Really, was it so hard to look into a book? Or even ask your parents?

Harry and Ron turned to him, along with some other curious first years.

"Do you know what it is?" Harry seemed very nervous of the prospect.

"Of course. They put an old hat on your head and it decides what house you'll be in."

Now, Ron and several other students were looking at him as if _he_ was the one being stupid.

Unfortunately, he didn't get much chance to defend himself, because at that moment, Professor McGonagall reappeared and hastily herded them straight into the Great Hall.

The heart of castle was perhaps the most pulchritudinous place Lelouch had ever seen in his whole lifetime, and that was speaking something. Thirty feet above them, a star-lit ceiling spread over his head in a woven blanket of night sky. A towering window glimmered from the farthest wall, reflecting the moonlit moors through magnificent hues of stained-glass. The hall was adorned with breathtakingly beautiful paintings of revered storybook witches and warlocks, captured at the height of their glory. And floating high above them, chiliadal candles coruscated with warm, jubilant fervor, bathing the soaring stone columns in ancient, familiar relucence.

At the very front of the chamber, a very old, tattered, pointy hat sat upon a rickety stool, as if no one had touched it a century.

But for the first time, Lelouch felt himself stiffen with anticipation. Any moment now, an old hat would be granted full power of deciding where he would spend the next seven years of his life.

Most of the students were busy admiring the enchanted ceiling and splendid decor of the hall, but Lelouch only had eyes for the four-legged stool and the pointed hat atop it. He was snapped out of his trance abruptly when the hat suddenly opened its folded mouth and burst into song.

At the end, a thunderous round of applause ensued, composed of both the old and new students; Lelouch heard Ron muttering somewhere behind him, _"So Prince Perfect was actually right..."_

Professor McGonagall brandished a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she announced. Absolute silence followed; no one wanted to disturb the ceremony that decided the future of the youngest additions of Hogwarts.

"Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line and put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes and scrunched its nonexistent brow thoughtfully. A moment's pause...

"HUFFLEPUFF!" exclaimed the hat.

Lelouch shifted nervously.

By alphabetical order, he wouldn't be too far down the line. Heart thudding radically against his ribs, he watched as 'Bones, Susan' went to Hufflepuff and 'Boot, Terry' to Ravenclaw. And then—

"vi Britannia, Lelouch!"

Straightening his spine (because you can never show weakness), Lelouch marched to the stool, attempting to masquerade much more confidence than he felt. There was nothing to fear, after all. The worst that could happen was that he'd end up in Slytherin together with Clovis and Draco Malfoy. For a whole... no. _Not_ an option.

The boy slowly raised the hat to his head, repeating a single word feverishly through his head: _Ravenclaw, Ravenclaw, Ravenclaw, Raven—_

_"Oh, don't be silly," _a foreign, unfamiliar voice intruded the cacophony of his mind. "_You can't lie to yourself. You know where you truly belong."_

The hat tilted itself atop his head, as if deep in thought.

_"Ahh, difficult. A brilliant young Britannia, burdened with the duty of upholding his family's reputation, and yet conflicted with his own wishes. Intelligent and masterfully scheming at once, you are. Where shall I place you indeed?"_

_"What?"_ Lelouch asked the hat telepathically. _"Just put me in Ravenclaw, please?"_

The hat nudged him. _"You would do quite well in Slytherin, boy. Quite well indeed. Though Ravenclaw wouldn't be a bad option; regardless of house, you could be a marvelous wizard one day. But above all other characteristics you are brave, unmatched in that regard; you harbor the unmistakable qualities of a true..."_

_Ravenclaw, _Lelouch prayed—

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Immediately, the Gryffindor table exploded into cheers, perhaps at the prospect that a Britannia, the first ever, had been sorted to join them. The Slytherin table, however, seemed much quieter than the other three tables, as if the realization that Lelouch had betrayed them had left them all shell-shocked.

Lelouch, meanwhile, sat completely frozen on the stool, eyes wide.

_"You're getting it wrong!" _He reprimanded the hat furiously.

The hat didn't reply. It was now as immobile and lifeless as ever, an inanimate piece of cloth upon his head.

It wasn't until Professor McGonagall took him by the shoulders and gently ushered him towards his house table did he finally unfreeze, stumbling towards the haze of red and gold in a bemused trance.

_No way... it couldn't be. _

Gryffindor._ Gryffindor?!_

"Hey, Britannia!" A grinning, freckled red haired boy, bearing a striking semblance to Ron, delivered a welcoming clap to his shoulder.

_Weasley, _Lelouch thought, somewhere in the back of his consciousness that remained rational.

"Guess you aren't as snooty as the rest of those insufferable purebloods, huh? Good to have you in the squad!" Smirking, he turned to a nearly identical boy who sat beside him. "Heh, I bet you anything, George, that this kid gets all the ladies."

"Fred!" Ron yelped, scandalized, as his elder brothers cackled at Lelouch's expense.

Lelouch blushed and squished himself between Ron and Harry, staring aimlessly at the empty plate in front of him. If only the ceramic porcelain would engulf him whole.

After the sorting ceremony ended, Lelouch was so distracted he barely heard any of what the Headmaster addressed to the school; something about a peculiar addition to the staff named Quirrell, a purple-turbaned man who would be teaching Defense against the Dark Arts for the school year. One way or another, he didn't seem very competent, because he stuttered once every two words and was so timorous he seemingly wished to cower beneath the table.

As food magically materialized upon the empty plates, the cheerful murmuration resumed amongst the students. The older students chatted amicably, while the first years around him tentatively made new acquaintances with their newly stated housemates. Lelouch, meanwhile, hunched his thin body into his now gold-embroidered robes, feeling very out of place. All around him, Gryffindors wore dazzling, rapturous smiles; they exuded courage and kindness, every quality he didn't have. The others seemed to gradually realize this mistake too, because one by one, radiant, dauntless children turned to gaze confusedly at the reticent raven-haired boy with shockingly pale skin and a gloomy demeanor to match, huddled miserably amidst a crowd that was anything but. The cat in the the nightingale's nest.

"Don't feel so bad," Ron cracked, seeing his discomfort. "It could be worse. You could be in Malfoy's house."

He was right, and Lelouch was, for once, grateful for the Weasley. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Clovis gawking at him from the Slytherin table with an expression that undoubtably questioned his betrayal; meanwhile, Cornelia gazed at him worriedly, violet eyes narrowed at the Gryffindors as if she were already preparing to interrogate them for excluding her little brother from their merriment. Then there was Schnitzel, perched among his conceited housemates with his headboy badge gleaming on his chest, who flashed a sympathetic smile at his misfortune_. _Lelouch glared back. _Not my fault._ He turned away, resigned to silence.

Perhaps it was for the better.

Unsurprisingly, the first person to engage him in conversation was Draco Malfoy.

"So, Lelouch, was it?" The boy drawled, gulping down a mouthful of roasted potatoes, "Are you enjoying your life as a newly instated Gryffindor? I pity your unfortunate future. And really, I wonder, how in the world _did _you endure the rest of your journey with Weasley?"

That question drew some curious glances from other students, and Lelouch quelled the urge to glare at Malfoy. Instead, he plastered on a fake smile.

Anything but destroying his reputation right in front of the school more than he already did.

"It was... quiet," he said simply, pointedly ignoring the first part of the inquiry and the titters of surprised Slytherins.

A girl two seats away from Malfoy leaned forward, a sneer spreading across her porcine countenance. Her hideous dome of black hair appeared to have been greased with oil in an attempt to beautify herself. A fruitless endeavor, really. "You're friends with the _Weasleys_?"

Lelouch's eye twitched in irritation. Malfoy's lips quirked into a condescending smile, his pale eyes leering with the intent of a predator.

"No. That was the first time I met any of them," said Lelouch, anger bubbling higher.

The girl was about to open her mouth again, but Lelouch cut her to the chase. "And who might you be?"

She brushed her lock of hair behind her ear and simpered, "Pansy Parkinson. And you?"

"Lelouch vi Britannia."

The dark skinned boy sitting next to Malfoy raised his eyes from his plate, eyeing the blond headboy further down the table.

"Any relation to Schneizel?"

"He's my brother."

The boy shrugged nonchalantly. "Guess you'll be the Gryffindor headboy instead."

Then, almost as if it were an afterthought, he added, "I'm Blaise Zabini, by the way."

A muffled sound resembling a snicker sounded somewhere besides Pansy, and Blaise turned a level stare at his fellow Slytherin.

"Do you have a problem, Nott?" he asked. Lelouch blinked. He'd heard that name _somewhere_ before...

The boy named Nott didn't so much as make an effort to hide his disdain.

"Oh, nothing," he sneered. "Everyone's entitled to have their own hobbies, aren't they? Such as talking to _Gryffindors."_

Pansy barked out a gurgling laugh. "Yes, they do. Yours, for example, must be dressing like a clown, if what you wore on the train is any indication."

"You—" Nott whirled on her, furious.

Briefly, Lelouch had time to find it briefly unsettling that he had turned around on his bench just to play spectator to a conversation amongst Slytherins, but for some reason he didn't turn away.

"Is that so, Nott?" Draco Malfoy cut in, snapping Lelouch back to reality. "'Everyone's entitled to have their own hobbies?' So, if your hobby was, let's say, helping out _muggles_, it would be all right too?"

"Well, apparently it happens to the _best_ of us, because the Sorting Hat doesn't lie," said Nott, dark eyes gleaming with triumph. "Which means that _you—"_ he whirled to Lelouch—"must be as insufferable as _them._ Where do your loyalties lie, Britannia? Perhaps you're a blood traitor, or a muggle sympathizer?"

Lelouch's mind finally placed the name _Nott, _and he regarded the other boy with a cold smile. "And if I was, where would that leave you, Nott? If I recall correctly, after the first Wizarding war, your family had to _beg_ mine for help in regards to redemption. Are you implying that the noble family of Nott must plead with a family of blood traitors for help clearing their name?"

In his peripheral vision, he thought he saw Schneizel smirk approvingly.

Nott opened and closed his mouth like a fish before turning away, a pernicious sneer etched across his beaver-esque features.

"Watch your back, _Britannia."_

Pansy and Blaise snickered, and Lelouch inwardly winced. Slytherins couldn't quite seem to agree on who or what to pick a fight with, and so they deemed everyone an adversary. Bigoted bunch, all of them. Somewhere in his mind, a little voice reminded him that this was truly where he belonged; amongst a crowd of dark, conniving insufferables who were at best ludicrously foolish and at worst downright malevolent. The notion hurt, but given the way the Gryffindors looked at him, it was likely true.

Before anyone could say anything else, half the Slytherin table dissolved into hysterical shrieks. Lelouch raised his eyes and found the progenitor of the outburst; streaming through the ranks of students, body a transparent sheen of argentum, was a ghost. An awful looking ghost, with blank, white eyes, a gaunt, sunken face, and robes smeared with gruesome conglomerations of silver blood. (Really, Lelouch wondered, why did the dead have to stay in their appallingly ghastly bodies of the past?)

"Greetings, Slytherins," said the ghost, unbeknownst to the fear it had aroused; its voice was shivery and almost mourning, but Lelouch was sure he had only imagined it. Ghosts didn't have emotions... did they?

"Bloody Baron," muttered Blaise in a low voice. "I heard he's Slytherin's ghost. Bloody disturbing."

Lelouch couldn't help but agree.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a familiar elvish boy with scruffy brown hair all the way at the end of the Slytherin table, nearly drowned out by the sea of silver and green. Lelouch's eyes widened in disbelief. Amongst the Slytherins, most of whom wore sneers or glares, was a hauntingly familiar face. They had parted ways two years ago and expected to never again see each other after that fateful summer spent by the lakeside. Those emerald eyes stared back with the same innocence he remembered, brilliant and clear as a cloudless day. Lelouch couldn't suppress a smile, relief and happiness flooding his chest—

Until he caught sight of the unmistakable silver and green stitching that lined Suzaku's robes, and the terrified expression on the other boy's face suddenly made sense. Just another mistake of the Sorting Hat.

Out of the two of them, Suzaku was brave and loyal and _definitely_ reckless to a fault, while Lelouch, on the contrary, had always been cold and indifferent and uncaring. By all definition, their roles should have been reversed.

The conversations between the green and silver first years were unceremoniously interrupted when the Bloody Baron suddenly snapped its head towards Lelouch, who had unknowingly climbed out of his seat in shock.

"And you, Gryffindor, shouldn't you be with your own table?"

Lelouch immediately sat back down and turned around so quickly he almost knocked over Ron.

Compared to the Slytherin table, the Gryffindors now seemed more inexplicably harmonious than ever. Unlike the passive aggressive comments made towards each other by the Slytherins, here the conversations held no hostility. It made Lelouch guilty, being the clear aberration amongst them. He managed to learn the names of a few of the other Gryffindors; Fred and George Weasley, Percy Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Kallen Stadtfeld, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Lavender Brown, Angelina Johnson... and of course there was Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who he already knew.

As dinner drew to a close and the food and desserts disappeared (Lelouch ignored his father's order to eat more and only nibbled a cookie and sipped a little pumpkin juice), Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again and cleared his throat.

"Ahem; just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you all. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well. I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must inform you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Lelouch wasn't sure whether to laugh or not, so he looked at the rest of the Gryffindors, but most of them were too bored to even listen to what the Headmaster had to say.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" Dumbledore raised his wand; as the candles magically dimmed, every stitched star upon his starry robes seemed to twinkle a bit brighter.

Almost everyone at the Gryffindor table winced vicariously, and Lelouch couldn't help but share the sentiment. Singing, _really?_

Golden ribbons flew out of Dumbledore's wand and twisted into words, hovering above the tables like Christmas tinsel.

"Everyone picks their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "And off we go!"

All the students bellowed the ridiculous words to a warbled, off-tune piece of _music _that sounded positively_ discordant; _the only people who were singing openly and loudly were those who must've been prefects, but even they didn't look particularly happy to do that. All the rest just snickered under their breaths or muttered the words (with the exception of Fred and George Weasley, who sang to the melody of a funeral march.)

At the end of the Slytherin table, Suzaku was still staring at Lelouch, pleading to be rescued from his predicament. Lelouch locked eyes with him and mouthed, _Meet me later. _

When the torture was finally over, Dumbledore cleared away the golden ribbons and sighed contentedly. "Ah, music. A magic beyond all we do here! And now, I believe it's time for bed. Off you trot!"

Lelouch was about to go search for Suzaku, but Percy Weasley, the Gryffindor Prefect, herded him along with the rest of first years out of the Great Hall, through a few more winding corridors, and up a grand mahogany staircase embellished with gold details, eventually stopping before a painted portrait of a fat lady hanging on the stone wall.

"Caput Draconis." Percy said. The fat lady swung her portrait open to reveal the a hole in the wall.

Despite being dimly lit, the chamber was very warm and cozy. Lofty glass windows stretched from floor to ceiling, richly red curtains drawn across walls of toasty brown brick in trains of cerise silk. A fireplace blazed on one side of the room, set within one face of the wall beneath a tapestry of a lion and a few scattered remnants of plaques or trophies. A ring of plushy armchairs surrounded the hearth, while rows of disheveled old books stacked themselves atop the mantle shelf. Percy stopped in the middle of the chamber and addressed all the first years.

"This is our common room. Boys' dormitories are on the left, girls' on the right. As you previously heard, our password is 'Caput Draconis.' Don't forget it, or you might be forced to spend the night outside. You have already met the Head of our House, Professor McGonagall; tomorrow, she will assign you all your timetables."

He paused then, as if considering his next words thoroughly, and finally added, "A friendly piece of advise. You have probably heard that Professor Snape favors his house, Slytherin. This decrees that we must perform cautiously under his watch. Furthermore, Professor McGonagall will award you plenty of house points if you do well, but she will also punish you severely if you fail. The most crucial piece of information is that all of the teachers require efficiency and hard work. Follow that, and you'll do fine. Now, go to your dormitories."

Lelouch, together with the other boys, made their way up a haphazard arrangement of shifting stairways to their dormitories situated on the seventh and ultimate story of Gryffindor tower. Having nowhere else to go, he resigned to following Ron, Harry, and Neville past Rooms 97, 98, and 99, before finally entering Room 100. As everyone worked to unpack, Lelouch missed Suzaku more than he already dared to admit. They could have shared a dormitory, could have had each other for company like Harry had Ron. He pulled the curtains to his bunk shut, sighing in relief at the fleeting comfort of privacy and darkness.

Arthur padded over the sheets and curled herself beside Lelouch, purring quietly when the boy stroked her ears.

Lelouch sighed broodingly. What on earth would he write in his letter back home? Would his parents be disappointed that he'd been sorted into Gryffindor House? In the end, he decided to leave it for tomorrow. He didn't have an owl with him, and the journey up to the Owlery seemed less than attractive at the moment. Besides, he was too tired to rummage through his trunk for a writing utensil and paper. Hopefully Euphy and Nunnally wouldn't be too angry with him.

Right now, he had a _mission_ to attend to. A friend to meet. Just like the old days.

Rules and sleep would have to wait.

He lit the wick of a stout white candle and pulled a certain snakeskin cloak out of his trunk and over his head, before silently brushing aside the curtains to his bunk and making his way silently down the stairs and into the eerily empty common room where the enchanted embers still burned and laughed in the fireplace.

Then, praying he was invisible, Lelouch took a deep breath, hefted his lantern... and crawled out of the portrait hole.

* * *

つづく 。。。

* * *

**A****N: **wow, this chapter is way too long... I couldn't stop writing though, because describing the setting makes it seem like you're reading Harry Potter again, seeing the Great Hall together with all the first years. Arguably it was one of the most memorable things I've read up to date though, so I had to describe everything, www. Also, if you're wondering where the rest of the Code Geass characters are, it'll be explained soon; they're just not at Hogwarts. I hope you're all having a great holiday, and I'll try to post the next chapter soon (ृ ͈ ᵕ ͈ ृ )ु

p.s. thank you for all your really kind reviews! if you leave one I'll reply to as many as I can when I publish the next chapter, as a general way of doing things.

xoxo V.


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